


Elven Conundrum

by Jiffers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiffers/pseuds/Jiffers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vignette of the events between closing the Rift and waking up.  Because my mind likes filling holes.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elven Conundrum

Varric watched Solas through the flames dancing in the fire pit. In the few weeks he had known the elf, he had always been so stoic and composed. Now the slender mage paced and Varric was pretty sure he'd be pulling out his hair if he had any. "Sit down, Chuckles," he begged softly. "You're going to wear MY boots out if you keep it up." 

Solas shot him a look through narrowed eyes. "I am not sure what you are implying," he replied, his melodic voice deceptively at odds with the nervous energy he was projecting. He attempted to sit on a log across from the dwarf. His perch only lasted a heartbeat before he was on his feet again. 

Leaning back against his own log, Varric laughed. The elf looked puzzled to find himself upright, before crossing his arms over his slight chest and letting out a very un-Solas like sigh. "Feel like your skin is too tight tonight?" the rogue asked. 

Solas settled on his log again and slumped into a defeated pose. Varric's eyebrows met his hair line in disbelief. He watched the progression of emotions that flashed across the elf's face throught the flicker of the firelight. 

The mage gazed into the flames and sighed again. "Things in the Fade are calm, serene, exactly as they are supposed to be," he began, then trailed off. "I've studied it and her. I do not see any correlation between the two. It's as if it has always been a part of her. I don't like to admit that I'm baffled." Solas fingered the cleft in his chin thoughtfully. 

A sudden scream split the night, bringing them both lurching to their feet. They glanced slightly wild eyed at each other and then at the small wooden building across from where they sat. 

Varric cursed under his breath and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. He fell heavily back onto his seat. "Andraste's knickers, she gets me everytime," he muttered. "How many days has it been now? And for Maker's sake how many times a day?" 

Solas glanced from the shelter where the Herald rested to the the dwarven rogue with a twisted grimace. "Two, if I must be precise. I stopped counting the other." 

"Shit!" Varric caught his head between his hands. "How much more can she take? How much more can we take?" 

The fire cracked between the two figures for a while and they watched the sparks rise up into the night. The breach swirled with a poisionous, oily light. The only hope for salvation from the menace lay shivering out of sight, but never out of mind. 

"Varric," Solas asked quietly. "Did we do the right thing?" 

Varric shot a look at the slender mage. "What choice did we have? What choice do we? That thing on her hand... it may be the only thing we have to stop that." He pointed at the twisting glow above.


End file.
